


Cycle of Violence

by Faithxoxo



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I just really need catra and adora to be together okay, Redemption, Sort Of, Switches Gears Sometime in Season 4, some arson at the end, they're in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23208442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faithxoxo/pseuds/Faithxoxo
Summary: The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, and expecting different results.In the aftermath of almost destroying everything she’s ever known, Catra watches the Fright Zone crumble and thinks that she’s been here before, too many times.She tells herself, every time she re-opens old wounds because she can’t bear to let them heal, that it’ll be the last time.A few months after the end of the world comes and goes, Catra decides it will be.
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 200





	Cycle of Violence

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who just binge-watched all of She-Ra because she's quarantined inside her house! This girl!
> 
> I fell in love with Catra the minute I met her and she deserves happiness and love and all the good things. My poor misunderstood baby really went crazy didn't she. She needs a lot of therapy and Adora. Mostly Adora. I love Adora too, I love them TOGETHER can they get together please. Who do I have to sleep with to get that to happen.
> 
> This whole fic just spawned from me not knowing how to keep myself busy and not knowing how to cope with the end of season 4. I have zero clue what this is, like some parts of it are ridiculous and some are serious and angsty. I'm a mess I'm sorry. This is also probably way too long but oh well.
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment and enjoy! Will be updating some of my other fics soon too! Love you all, and stay safe and healthy! xoxo angels

* * *

In Catra’s dreams, in some shape or form, Adora’s always there.

Sometimes, Catra relives Thaymor, and defects with her.

Sometimes, it’s the battle of Bright Moon. Instead of sinking her claws into Adora’s back, Catra reaches out and takes her hand.

Very rarely does she dream of the Crystal Castle, of Adora staring up at her as she falls, a look in her eyes that sings of heartbreak and betrayal. Very rarely, in her dreams, does Catra not let her fall.

Even rarer are the dreams she has where instead of leaving, Adora comes back. Abandons that stupid sword with Sparkles and Crop Top and doesn’t let go of Catra’s hand. Comes back to the Horde with her, rules it with her—

Catra only dreams of the Portal once, in the months after she pulls the lever. She dreams of Adora burying the sword of protection in her ribs, twisting the handle until blood rushes out.

When Catra dreams of bleeding to death, Adora’s always there, petting her hair and holding her hand.

Except Catra’s been bleeding to death for months, years, _her whole fucking life_ , and Adora let go of her hand a long time ago.

* * *

And it would be okay, it would be, if it wasn’t so hard afterward.

Catra can’t eat without getting sick, can’t sleep without waking up screaming.

She thinks this is what Adora meant, when she told Catra to live with the choices she made.

And Catra could live with it, she could, she’s _trying_ , but she wakes up shaking and sobbing one night and she realizes; she can’t blame Adora for this.

Catra’s done a lot of things because of Adora, _for_ Adora, to hurt Adora. Pulling that lever, she thought she did that to spite Adora, but Catra did that for herself.

She asks herself, when her reasons escape her and her defenses are lowered and she has nothing to lose from telling the truth, even if she had won, would it have been worth it?

She thinks about how if the world had collapsed on itself, she and Adora would’ve died together.

It terrifies her to admit it, but that would’ve been worth it for her.

* * *

The next time Catra sees Adora after the end of the world comes and goes, Adora looks right through her, as though Catra doesn’t exist.

It’s infuriating, she can’t abide it. Catra would rather Adora hate her, at least hate is something. Catra has always been something to Adora; her best friend, the first person she kissed, her enemy, whatever they were to each other in between.

She can’t handle being nothing to Adora.

It’s why she pulls the pin on a grenade and tosses it point-blank in Sparkles’ face.

Sparkles yelps and teleports away before she can get the brunt of the explosion, just like Catra knew she would, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, because it makes Adora look at her.

Anger in her eyes, a bloody scratch down She-Ra’s left cheek, “ _Catra_.”

Catra’s heart _sings_ , all feels right in the world she almost ended.

“Hey, Adora.”

* * *

The first night Double Trouble crashes in Catra’s room after she brings them back to the Horde from the Crimson Waste, Catra tells them to shift into Adora before she even has her door closed.

Double Trouble sighs melodramatically, “The things I do for money and drama.”

They morph into a perfect replica of Adora, so identical and startling Catra has to throw out a hand to brace herself against her bedroom wall.

“Turn back,” She says, choked, and Double Trouble frowns but does as she asks. Catra takes a shuddering breath and slips off her headpiece, setting it on her bedside nightstand.

For a half-second, she toys with the idea of having them shift into Adora and lie with her in the bed. If her eyes are closed, maybe she can stomach it. Hell, she might even get some fucking sleep for once.

She doesn’t need to look into Adora’s sky-coloured eyes, she just needs to hear Adora breathing beside her. Maybe that’ll be enough.

It’s crazy, it’s _weak_.

Double Trouble does it without a moment’s hesitation. They’re smart about it, too. They wait until Catra’s changed into her uniform-issued pajamas and has her eyes closed, and then they transform into Adora and slide underneath the thin blanket, heartbeat so familiar even after all this time.

She feels a hand in her hair, gentle and caring in a way she knows doesn’t come naturally to Double Trouble—but it comes naturally to Adora.

It’s the first time Catra sleeps in over eight days.

* * *

Catra measures how long she can forgo sleeping, marks the days in tick marks in a book, sees the proof in the dark rings under her eyes.

If she can avoid it, grin and bear one more day, she won’t sleep.

When she reaches her breaking point, hallucinations of people who’ve abandoned her dancing behind her eyes, she snags Double Trouble’s wrist before lights out is called and they’ll follow her to her room without a single witty remark.

She’ll hate them for this, somewhere down the line. Sometime in the future when they’ll turn on her and leave her like everyone inevitably does, she’ll despise them for letting her become dependent on them.

After Adora, she promised herself she’d never depend on anybody ever again. It’s what keeps her from letting her walls down for Scorpia, it’s why she looks at Lonnie and Kyle and Rogelio from afar and snaps at them when they try to get closer.

Catra will never admit it, but she’s scared if she lets herself believe every promise Scorpia makes about never leaving her, she’ll starting believing in promises again.

She can’t put herself through that. She won’t. Catra’s torn herself down and ripped out everything Adora ever liked about her because she needed to make herself strong.

She tells herself, every time she cracks and breaks and re-opens old wounds because she can’t bear to let them heal, that it’ll be the last time.

Double Trouble doesn’t charge her for their nights together. They charge her for the spying, but every morning Catra wakes up to blond hair in her mouth and Adora’s face inches away from hers, glowing soft and golden in the pre-dawn light, Double Trouble doesn’t ask her for a thing.

Despite herself, Catra starts trusting them.

It shouldn’t feel good anymore, Adora’s weight in her arms. It should feel like a boulder crushing her chest.

Instead, it feels like she’s still in that warped reality. The split-second before Adora woke up and remembered and everything fell apart again—second verse, same as the first—Catra was able to just look at her.

It feels like she never broke the best thing she ever had.

Something else, to remind her how different everything is now, how different _Catra_ is—she can admit to herself that she broke them; her and Adora.

Adora left Catra fractured and forgotten, and Catra took all of that pain and shattered whatever was left.

* * *

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, and expecting different results. Catra knows this.

She knows this, and she’s still scaling the wall of Bright Moon’s tower like a crazy stalker, peeking through the light purple curtains into Adora’s room.

Adora comes close to catching her a few times. If Adora ever does notice her, she says nothing.

She wears the sword of protection as a bracelet on her wrist now. It’s smart, more convenient than heaving a giant sword on her back twenty-four-seven.

Adora was always the slow learner between them, no matter what Shadow Weaver said. Catra picked up on strategy and battle-planning like she was born to lead, while Adora stared at maps and asked why two kingdoms had almost identical names.

Adora might be a slow learner, but she learns.

Catra is not infallible. Catra makes at least fifty mistakes a day.

One of them is leaving a ration bar wrapper on Adora’s windowsill after one of her midnight drop-ins.

The next time Catra pulls herself through Adora’s window, Adora’s awake. She’s waiting for her.

Catra freezes, only halfway through the window. She schools her expression into something cruel, something vicious, “Hey, Adora.”

“Catra,” Adora says, and she sounds tired. It makes Catra falter. “What are you doing here?”

Catra racks her brain for a suitably evil excuse, “Would you believe,” She starts, “That I’m here to blow up Bright Moon?”

Adora purses her lips, “So, what, you’re the reason Queen Angella is dead, and you’re here to finish the job by killing Bright Moon’s new queen, too?”

Catra flinches. Adora must see it, because her eyes go wide a moment later. A disbelieving expression crosses her face, like she can’t believe she just said that.

“Sorry,” Adora says, with an edge of guilt, “I’m sorry, that was…really mean of me.”

Catra is the reason her new bestie’s mother is dead, and Adora is apologizing for _being mean_.

Catra wonders what happened to the Adora who punched her in the face during their fight in the Portal, who told her to live with her choices, who decided she was done with Catra once and for all.

The person standing in front of her isn’t that Adora, it’s the Adora Catra remembers. The one who would always apologize after Shadow Weaver hurt her for something Adora did or didn’t do, the one who was willing to forgive Catra for anything, even leaving her to die.

Catra looks at Adora, _really_ looks at her.

She looks past the blond hair and the blue eyes and the softness that is as familiar to Catra as her own reflection in the mirror. Beneath it all, Adora looks _tired_.

“Adora…are you okay?” Catra asks, and the words feel awkward and foreign, but she’s here and Adora’s not kicking her out and she figures she can cross a few more lines.

Adora scoffs, it’s an ugly sound. It feels wrong, coming from Adora. “Catra, I can’t remember the last time I felt okay.”

Catra grits her teeth and bites the bullet, “Tell me about it.” She adds hastily, “To distract me from my own problems.”

“No other reason?” Adora huffs, “It’s not because you like me?”

Catra closes her eyes, “Would it matter,” She bites her lip, “If I said it was because I did?”

Adora’s voice goes flat, “I guess it would depend on whether or not I believed you.”

“Do you?” Catra holds her breath.

Adora stays quiet too long. Catra cracks an eye open.

“No,” Adora answers eventually, eyes hooded, but there’s something gentle there, too. It can’t be meant for her, Catra has done too much to deserve the way Adora is looking at her.

“I don’t believe you,” Adora sighs. “Maybe one day, I’ll be able to.”

Before she can stop herself, Catra says, “I can wait.”

Adora stills, “Why?” She asks, her features twisting in anger and hurt. “Why is it that when I finally stop waiting, when I finally _let go,_ you get to come back and mess with my head again? You don’t get to _do that_ , Catra. I’m—I’m tired.”

“You’re not the only one,” Catra says, trying to dredge up that old anger, but she’s spent so long being angry, the well has run dry. “You’re not the only one who’s tired and trying to let go.”

“I _have_ let go,” Adora insists, but it sounds weak, like she’s trying to convince herself more than Catra. “And you don’t get to be mad at me for that. You—you let go first.”

Catra feels a laugh tear its way out of her throat, bitter and self-deprecating. “Adora, I have never let go of a single thing my entire fucking life.”

Adora’s mouth moves soundlessly, “So where does that leave us?” She asks, a note of desperation in her voice that makes Catra’s knees go weak. “I have to know, because I can’t do this forever, Catra. I’m—I’m not strong enough.”

Catra feels her breath catch, her blood freeze. “You’re Adora,” She says, like it makes sense. It makes sense to Catra, Adora and strength are synonymous. “You’re the strongest person I know. It’s why I hate you so much.”

Adora inhales sharply, her eyes fever-bright. “When it comes to you, I’ve never been strong. If I was strong, I would’ve gotten between you and Shadow Weaver that very first day.”

Catra digs her nails into her palms and says the words that have been burning at the back of her throat since crawled her way out of the Portal, “We were both kids, and she fucked us both up.” Catra takes the plunge, “It wasn’t your fault.”

Adora makes a strangled, wounded noise, bringing her hands to her mouth as though she wants to cover it up; hide it.

Catra realizes her eyes are spilling over, ice blue and watery. Adora’s crying.

There was a time when Catra would hold Adora to her chest, when they were children and Shadow Weaver pushed them too far. Adora’s always been better at being the emotional support, kindness so natural to her it feels like a built-in thing.

All Catra could do was hold Adora and hope her claws didn’t dig too deep. Adora’s got shallow cuts on her shoulders, her collarbone, along her arms and her ribcage. Everywhere Catra ever touched her, drawn into her skin. 

When they were kids, Catra would hold her. Just a few weeks ago, Catra might’ve _laughed_. Told Adora to get over it, that she was embarrassing herself. She-Ra’s supposed to be invincible, She-Ra’s not supposed to cry.

The thing is, sword or not, Adora has always been Adora to her. She-Ra’s never meant a thing to Catra.

Catra crosses the room, her steps confident and sure in a way she doesn’t feel. She tentatively wraps her arms around Adora and hopes she doesn’t push her away. Catra pries Adora’s hands away from her face and cradles them, leaning their foreheads together.

Adora sniffles, her shoulders trembling, and intertwines their fingers.

“I know I have no right to be asking you this,” Adora gives a wet laugh, “But will you stay?”

Catra’s heart stutters, except for the first time in a long time, it’s the good kind of pain.

“Sure,” She says, letting her walls down. “I promise.”

* * *

Catra wakes up in increments the next morning, slowly, like she’s under water and someone’s dragging her out.

She registers the lack of noise almost instantly. The Fright Zone is never quiet, it used to hurt her ears when she was younger, but it’s become something she associates with _home_.

Bright Moon is eerily silent, apart from the birds chirping outside, and Adora’s light snoring.

Catra drinks Adora in like she hasn’t seen her in years, hollow and empty and needing to catalogue every difference, every new thing she missed while they were on opposite sides of the same battle line.

The thought is jarring, a bucket of cold reality; they’re still on opposite sides of that line.

Catra should leave while Adora’s still out, should crawl back out the window and make a run for the Whispering Woods. Even if she leaves, she knows she’ll end up coming back.

Whether it’s tonight or tomorrow or a week or a month from now, she’s always going to end up back here.

She watches Adora sleep, dark smudges under her eyes that match Catra’s, lips parted, face relaxed, and she makes a decision.

She doesn’t want to let this go. She wants to wake up every morning to this, to Adora’s arm around her waist and Adora’s head tucked into Catra’s shoulder.

Catra squeezes her eyes shut and bites her lip hard enough to draw blood. She makes a decision.

She rips off her Force Captain badge and chucks it into the waterfall in the corner of Adora’s room.

The weight of all the things she’s done and all the shit she’ll have to go through to prove herself, _again_ , weigh like an anvil on her chest.

And yet, Catra doesn’t regret it.

* * *

Adora’s pajama top is see-through, letting Catra see the dips and ridges of her shoulders and her spine, the new muscle she’s gained, probably from hauling the sword of protection around all the time.

It also lets Catra see the scars, her pain carved into Adora’s back. The sight of them, eight long gashes, long-healed and ugly-looking. It makes her feel _sick_.

Catra keeps her claws retracted when she slips her hands underneath the thin fabric of Adora’s top. She lifts the material until it’s bunched up around Adora’s shoulders, pulls her close until they’re flush against each other.

Catra hesitates, thinks _fuck it_ and presses her lips to the largest gash. She trails kisses along Adora’s skin, thinks, if she had She-Ra’s healing abilities, she knows what she would do with them.

She-Ra’s supposed to be untouchable. She-Ra’s not supposed to scar—

Adora twitches, and Catra goes still. She feels a flare of panic and scrambles to put some distance between them on the bed.

Adora’s hand shoots out and wraps around Catra’s wrist. Her voice is pleading, “Sorry, I’m _sorry_ , just—don’t stop.”

Catra closes her eyes, tries to get her breathing back under control. “Okay,” She says. After all this time spent fighting Adora, trying to hate Adora, it feels strange, giving into her so easily.

It doesn’t feel wrong, just different.

Catra’s trying to be different. She’s trying to be someone Adora could love again, one day. She has a long way to go.

She loses track of time, kisses every inch of Adora’s skin, anywhere Adora will let her touch. Adora just sighs and hums and shimmies closer, she brings Catra’s hand to her lips and presses light kisses to each of Catra’s fingers.

It makes Catra tense, makes her throat constrict, because Adora’s clutching Catra’s hand like a lifeline. She’s acting as though nothing’s wrong.

Something must have happened. The way they left things off, horrible and messy and excruciating, Adora shouldn’t be treating her like this.

The way the two of them fit together reminds Catra of when they were fourteen, still cadets hiding under the blanket of the top bunk in the barracks, cuddling and kissing with only a dinky flashlight to let them know if they were doing it right.

When they were younger, Adora used to look at her like Catra was the only thing in the room, the Fright Zone, the whole world, that _mattered_.

Adora’s looking at her that same way now.

Everything’s different. The world’s been turning, time’s moved on. Etheria’s moved on.

She knows she and Adora can’t go back, that Adora might have forgiven her, but she’s not going to forget anytime soon.

They should talk about this. They should, but Catra has the emotional capacity of a ration bar.

Catra is good at pretending, she can pretend nothing’s wrong. She’s abandoning everything she worked her whole life for to be with Adora.

Catra’s clawed and bled and broken herself over and over, just so she could piece herself back together into someone worthwhile. She realizes how much time she’s wasted; how wrong she’s been about everything.

Adora’s the only one who looked at Catra and already saw someone worthwhile.

Her heart pounding in her chest, Catra says, “I tossed my Force Captain badge in your fountain.”

Adora blinks uncomprehendingly, “You _what_?”

“I’m done. With the Horde, with Hordak, with all of it. I should’ve walked away a long time ago. I, uh, threw my Force Captain badge away as like, a grand gesture, or some shit.” Catra shifts uncomfortably, “Is it working?”

“Is what working?” Adora asks, a stunned look on her face.

“My grand gesture,” Catra snaps, hating how vulnerable she sounds. “Duh, Adora.”

Adora eyes shine, crystal blue and beautiful. She cups the back of Catra’s neck, her lips pulling into a smile that is bright and dazzling, and she kisses her.

Adora kisses Catra, full on the mouth, and it feels like Catra’s heart stops. Time stops.

“Of course it’s working, silly,” Adora says, laughing, as she pulls away. Catra chases her mouth and hisses in disappointment. “I’ve always been a sucker for grand declarations of love.”

Catra falters, her chest tightening. She wishes she could say it, wishes she had the words. _It’s just a word._

It’s just a word, and she can’t say it.

It’s just a word, and it means _everything_.

“You don’t have to say it out loud,” Adora says, reading Catra’s mind as easily as she always did. “I already know.”

“How,” Catra winces at the shakiness in her voice. “How can you know?”

Adora shakes her head, as though it’s obvious, as though it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “You just threw away your whole life for me,” Adora says, her fingers tracing patterns into Catra’s back. “Catra, that means everything.”

Catra thinks, if she’s going to do this _being in love_ thing, she’s going to go full-throttle.

She’s always been all or nothing.

“You mean everything,” She tells Adora. “You mean everything to me,”

Adora makes a soft, happy sound, and drags Catra in for another kiss. They kiss until they’re too exhausted to keep going, and then they go back to sleep.

When Catra wakes up again, sometime later, there’s a sword being held to her throat.

* * *

Catra’s thrown into a cell faster than Adora can say the words “For the honour of Grayskull.”

The cell turns out to be more like a lavish guest bedroom, except there’s a spell cast on the door that locks it from the outside.

Her arm is sore where the guard yanked her, she’s not even sure what the creepy motherfucker was doing in Adora’s room.

Adora told her, the split-second after they put Catra in shackles and before they court marshaled her out of the room, that she was going to fix everything as soon as she could.

Catra’s confidence isn’t high. She’s the reason Sparkles’ mom is gone, and Sparkles is the queen now. Sparkles could have Catra executed, she definitely has the guts for it.

Catra contemplates escaping. She could, if she really wanted to. An army of guards isn’t quick enough to pin her down if she decides to run, but—but she promised Adora she would stay.

Adora literally followed the guards as they marched Catra to her cell/re-purposed guest room. Adora yelled at them the whole time, threw around orders and then tried asking politely when that didn’t work. She even pulled out the big guns and transformed into She-Ra, Catra thought Adora was going to start a fight right there in the hallway.

 _“I’ll fix this, I won’t stop until we’re together again, okay? I just got you back,”_ Adora’s smile could block out the sun, could outshine the stars, if Etheria had any.

Catra doesn’t even know what stars look like, she just knows Adora is brighter.

_“Everything’s going to be fine. I’ll talk to Glimmer, and Bow, and the rest of the princess alliance. I’ll do whatever it takes. I didn’t get to tell you, before, but—I love you too. We’re going to be okay, Catra. I love you. I promise.”_

Catra thinks of their track record with promises. Adora making a promise she didn’t keep was the beginning of everything that went wrong between them, and everything that went wrong between them is what led Catra here.

There are a million reasons why Catra should run, _execution_ is at the top of the list.

Catra closes her eyes and slumps against the far wall of the room. The shackles bite painfully into her wrists, she doesn’t run.

She might regret this later, for now, she believes Adora.

* * *

Two days pass. Not a single person comes into the room. No guards, no Adora.

They don’t feed her or give her water, even the Fright Zone, dysfunctional as it is, doesn’t let its prisoners starve to death.

Forty-eight hours of waiting, her wrists raw from tugging at the shackles. Catra wishes she could muster up that old anger that used to run so hot in her, that anger that burned a hole in her heart and pushed her to grind up everyone else to fill it.

It’s like her heart is numbing over, shrunken ten-sizes since she last saw Adora. Her heart is tired.

Catra is so fucking tired.

* * *

She doesn’t sleep.

Sleep’s never solved any of her problems anyway.

Catra’s been tired since the day Hordak stuck a Force Captain badge over the gaping hole Adora left in her and acted as if it was a band-aid.

He never actually believed in her. Neither did Shadow Weaver. Catra’s been playing a game rigged from the start.

It doesn’t matter how many finish lines Catra crosses; a cell in the Fright Zone or a locked room in Bright Moon, sentenced to death by Hordak or ordered to be executed by Sparkles.

Catra realizes it now, has sucked up her pride and her bitterness enough to finally admit it.

It’s always been a lose-lose. There was never a way for her to win.

* * *

There’s only one difference. As small as it is, as little good as it does her.

Catra has _always, always, always_ measured everything she’s ever done by Adora.

If Sparkles herself burst into the room in all of her glittery, neon-purple glory, and told Catra she was going to die tomorrow; Catra would tell her _“Thanks, at what time?”_

It doesn’t matter, not really. Catra’s been self-destructing for years. In the grand scheme of things, Catra has never mattered. It used to kill her, make her see red and want to raze the world to the ground until she meant something, was someone who mattered.

But Catra _matters_ to Adora, and if Sparkles executes her, well, at least she knows Adora will miss her. She’ll know Adora tried, in that all-or-nothing, self-punishing way of hers.

It took her a long time to make peace with it, she thinks she finally has, now that she’s realized she’s been trying to prove her worth to the wrong people.

Catra has never, not once, had to prove her worth to Adora.

Catra has hurt Adora in more ways than she can count, than she can remember, but she can prove this to her. She can _stay_.

The irony is not lost on her.

* * *

Sometime after the sun rises on Catra’s third day of her stay at Casa del Bright Moon, the door to her room is opened for the first time since they locked her up and threw away the key.

Catra shoots to her feet, a scowl on her face, fully prepared to verbally eviscerate whichever dipshit guard has been forgetting to feed her—seriously, Sparkles can’t execute her if Catra dies of starvation first, _duh_ —except she doesn’t get the chance, because the door is shut again almost as quickly as it was opened.

When Catra meets Double Trouble’s eyes across the room, the bright pink of Flutterina falling away and giving way to something more familiar, Catra _knows_. She just knows.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” She says. She can already feel the impending head-ache.

There’s no doubt about it. Sparkles is definitely sentencing her to death now. She’s going to have to share a chopping block with DT, and they’re probably going to be insufferable about it.

She wonders if the Queen would put her out of her misery early.

“Kitten,” Double Trouble blinks once, twice. They point a finger at her, “Is my claustrophobia acting up already? Are hallucinations a symptom of claustrophobia? Oh boy, I hope not. I _do not_ want a repeat of that time that old lady who lives in that hovel in the woods baked me a pie and I got a bad trip, I’m pretty sure those berries she had me pick were expired—”

“Executioner,” Catra calls out, as loud as she possibly can, “Can we hurry this up? If there’s a bucket, I’m ready to kick it.”

“Wow, rude,” DT gripes. A half-second later, their eyes go comically wide. They gasp melodramatically and gesture wildly at Catra. “Kitten, how are you here? Did the rebels catch you? That’s embarrassing. I’m embarrassed for you.”

“I did not get _caught_ ,” Catra scoffs, her honour called into question. “I snuck in here to make-out with Adora and some guard with a thing for voyeurism came into her room while we were doing— _things_. Things that are none of your business, you creep, stop looking at me like that. Anyway, they threw me in here three days ago.”

Catra face-palms, where the fuck is Bright Moon’s executioner? Does Bright Moon not have an executioner?

DT squeals and flashes across the room, throwing themselves at Catra. They pick her up and twirl her around, “Oh my stars, kitten, I love that for you. Who knew you were so _wild_? I’m kind of jealous of Adora, Hordak knows I’ve been putting in work for weeks.”

“What?” Catra hisses, squirming violently in DT’s arms. This is making her miss _Scorpia’s_ hugs. “You—you wanted—I thought you were just in it for the money.”

“Kitten, I never charged you for the nights we spent together. You think I do that for every client? That’s bad business. The only reason I did it for you is because you have a pretty face.”

“I do?” Catra asks dumbly. She scowls a second later, irrationally upset. “So, what, you just wanted me for my face?”

“No, I wanted you for your sparkling personality and endless kindness.” DT drawls sarcastically, “Honestly, kitten, you’re supposed to be smart. With all the talk I’ve heard about you being the Horde’s best strategist, you’re supposed to be some kind of genius.”

“I was the Horde’s best strategist, they all sucked before me,” Catra snaps, because Shadow Weaver couldn’t win a battle to save her life and Hordak is a reclusive moron with big brother issues. “You know how much territory the Horde gained when I got promoted to Hordak’s second-in-command? Fifty-percent more than it’s gained in the last thirty years, I was a fucking _star_ , okay. Scorpia made me a trophy and everything, so clearly it must be true.” Catra smirks viciously. She’s not pleased with her past accomplishments, a lot of what she gained for the Horde was at Adora’s expense, and she regrets every moment she spent hurting Adora. The recognition though, even if it was only from Scorpia, was enough to give her wings.

Catra wonders if Scorpia’s noticed she’s gone. She wonders if Scorpia’s okay.

Guilt worms its way into her chest like a parasite, between planning the big assault on Salineas with Hordak and sneaking over to Bright Moon to stalk Adora and watch her while she slept, Catra’s barely spoken to Scorpia.

She notices Double Trouble looking at her strangely and grits her teeth, covering up whatever vulnerability must show on her face. Allowing herself to be weak in front of Adora is one thing, no one else has earned that privilege.

Catra still has a reputation to maintain, even if she has hit the bottom of rock-bottom.

“What?” She demands, when DT stays quiet too long. “I know you think my face is pretty, take a picture, it’ll last—”

“When you talked about being the best strategist the Horde’s ever seen,” DT cuts her off. Their eyes are knowing, it makes Catra uneasy. “You spoke in the past tense. You said you _were_ the best, and maybe I missed a memo or a Fright Zone service announcement, but last I heard, I didn’t know you were retiring.” Double Trouble sets Catra down, their hands moving from her waist to cup her chin, tilting it upwards.

DT smiles sharply, “You’re too young to be retiring, kitten.”

Catra feels her throat tighten, “I’m tired, Double Trouble. I’m too young to be this tired.”

“Giving up doesn’t sound like you,” DT observes. They don’t sound upset, just puzzled, like Catra’s a mystery they thought they had solved, but didn’t.

“I’m not giving up, I’m—” Catra’s voice falters, her heartbeat quickening.

She didn’t think it would be this hard, saying the words to someone besides Adora. She remembers the way Adora looked at her when Catra told her, wonder-struck and _happy_ , and it makes it easier.

“I’m not giving up,” Catra repeats firmly. “I don’t give up, ever. I’m tapping out.” She registers the surprise on DT’s face, the way their expression goes slack in shock. Catra feels satisfaction at the fact that she’s the only person who’s ever made Double Trouble speechless.

“I’m jumping aboard the Rebellion band-wagon,” Catra says, “They’ve got better food than the Horde, and better beds, and…” She feels her heart soften, and bites the bullet. “And they have Adora. It took me a while, but I’ve kind of realized I don’t want to be somewhere she isn’t. All the power Hordak could ever give me isn’t worth that.”

Double Trouble’s jaw has just about hit the floor. They don’t speak for a while, then, they burst into thunderous applause.

“ _Kitten_ , kitten that was just—just so romantic! I cannot believe—I’ve never shed a tear, not even when a performance calls for it, and you have me _sobbing_ , I’m _deceased_ , the First Ones have blessed me on this day. Wow.”

Double Trouble dramatically wipes away a tear, “Bravo. I don’t know how you did it, but you’ve pierced my cold, money-loving heart. I’m so happy I had a hand in playing matchmaker for you two.”

Catra sputters, “What the fuck, you literally did nothing.”

“I _slept_ with you,” Double Trouble says, like it was a hardship and they’re now traumatized. “I put myself directly in the line of fire and did my duty for the good of the planet. You’re welcome.”

“What line of fire?” Catra demands, “You admitted you were trying to get into my pants not even ten minutes ago.”

“I was trying, I put maximum effort into it, thank you for acknowledging my hard work.” Double Trouble agrees, without shame. “And just for the record, if ever it doesn’t work out with Adora, I have no qualms about being a rebound.”

“If it doesn’t work out with Adora,” Catra growls, just the idea of it making her feel sick. “I’m going to go set the Fright Zone on fire and get myself transported to Beast Island.”

“How self-destructive of you,” Double Trouble says. They sigh dreamily, “I need to find myself someone who’s ride-or-die like that.”

“Look elsewhere,” Catra says, “I’m taken.”

Double Trouble pouts, tracing the line of Catra’s jaw, all the way down to the slope of her neck. “What a shame. On the bright side, I’m pretty sure Queen Glimmer’s going to execute us both before I have to suffer through watching you and Adora being unbearably cute together.”

“Right.” Catra frowns, the ache in her chest returning full-force. Talking about Adora just reminds her of how pathetic she is, how much she _misses_ Adora. “That might be a problem.”

“ _Might be_?” Double Trouble gapes, “How often do you get sentenced to death? Do you just…what, walk it off? This is concerning, I’m concerned.”

Catra rolls her eyes and makes a move to answer, whatever she was about to say dies at the sound of the door-knob turning, the hinges creaking as the guest-room door is pushed open.

In the dim lighting of the doorway, Adora crosses the threshold, a key-ring in her hand, and shoots Catra a brilliant smile.

“Guess who’s the newest member of the Rebellion,” Adora beams, and winks at Catra. “I think I just topped your grand gesture, don’t worry, you can thank me for it later.”

Catra absolutely _does not_ throw herself into Adora’s arms. She doesn’t let Adora pick her up and kiss her breathless, she doesn’t lose track of time, and she definitely doesn’t whisper _“Hey Adora”_ into Adora’s ear as Adora presses kisses to Catra’s throat.

Catra has a reputation, _okay_. _She does_.

Adora just has a way of making her stop caring.

It’s everything Catra’s been missing these past three days. Any doubt she might’ve had about leaving the Horde disappears, leaving her feeling weightless; light enough to float away.

It comes crashing down when Sparkles appears in a cloud of glitter, takes one look at them, and starts screaming.

* * *

“She tried to destroy the planet!” Sparkles yells.

“And _what_ about it?” Catra snaps.

“She might have,” Adora acknowledges, arms locked snugly around Catra to keep her from lunging at Glimmer. “But consider this.”

“Consider what?” Sparkles is spectacularly losing her shit. It’s sad to watch.

“I love her,” Adora says.

“Oh, the drama of it all,” Double Trouble swoons. “You can’t get between true love, glitter queen.”

“True Love?” Bow gasps, glancing from Adora, to Catra, to Double Trouble, to Glimmer, and then back to Adora. He’s been trying and failing to look like a heavily disappointed dad for the past five minutes. “Aw, that’s adorable!” He declares, apparently having given up. “I support you both! I’ll make everyone matching pride bracelets!”

“Bow, no,” Glimmer groans.

Bow’s face falls, “Right. Sorry. No matching pride bracelets.” He throws a coy wink at Adora and lowers his voice, “I still support you though, but don’t tell Glimmer.”

“I am standing three feet away from you, I can hear everything!” Glimmer throws her hands up in exasperation. “She’s pure evil. She’s—she’s brainwashed you, or something. She literally tried to kill you, so many times!”

Adora rests her chin on Catra’s shoulder, Catra feels a shiver shoot up her spine and moves closer, a soft purr building up in her chest.

Adora waves a hand nonchalantly, “Water under the bridge.”

Glimmer’s left eye twitches, “She tried to destroy Bright Moon,” She starts counting on her fingers. “Kidnapped me and Bow once. Almost ended the world. Ruined the All Princess Ball by bombing Frosta’s castle in the Kingdom of Snows. Attacked the sea gate at Salineas. Hired a shapeshifting _assassin_ to spy on the Rebellion and report back to her. Tore a hole in reality by opening the Portal—did I mention nearly destroying the world? I think I did. I’ll say it _again_. _She almost ended the world_.”

“She’s sorry?” Adora tries, optimistic to a fault.

Glimmer’s right eye starts to twitch.

“She tossed her Force Captain badge in my fountain?” Adora tries again. She cuts a look at Catra, “It was great. Really. You’re so gorgeous when you make morally sound decisions.”

Catra’s mind blanks. She wonders if there’s a vendor somewhere in Bright Moon that sells morals. There must be, Shadow Weaver must’ve bought herself a set of morals if Glimmer let _her_ stay.

Catra grins mischievously and kisses Adora, “Wow, Adora. A girl grows a sense of morality and suddenly you’re all over her.”

“What can I say,” Adora gives a small laugh. “It’s the hero in me.”

“Disgusting,” Glimmer says.

“Adorable!” Bow corrects her.

“All of the above,” Double Trouble sighs, “Will someone please untie me now?”

* * *

Catra joining the Alliance is a work in progress.

Technically, she’s not a princess. Although, neither is Bow. Double Trouble sticks around the first few days after they’re let out of the room they were being kept in, once it’s clear that no one’s going to be executed.

DT doesn’t say anything, not to Catra, but she has a feeling that the reason they’re hanging around is for her. Catra would never tell them to their face, but she’s thankful that they’re sticking with her.

She remembers a time when she thought Double Trouble would turn on her at the first hint of a better option, and maybe it’s because no one else is willing to pay for their services, but they—they stick around. They stick around Catra like she’s fun to spend time with, like she’s someone _important_.

It reminds her of Scorpia, her boundless energy and kindness. Kindness Catra certainly never deserved.

She’s been coming to peace with a lot of things since settling down in Bright Moon with Adora. Shadow Weaver wasn’t her fault, Hordak wasn’t her fault, but _Scorpia and Entrapta_ —

Catra fucked up badly with them. She left Scorpia in the Fright Zone and abandoned Entrapta to Beast Island. Catra knows how much it hurts to be left, and she did it to them. Catra left them both.

It’s why the first time Glimmer ever calls on her to speak during a Princess Alliance meeting, Catra says immediately, without hesitation, “I want to lead a rescue mission to Beast Island.”

The room goes quiet.

“Insert awkward silence,” DT mutters, lounging in one of the spare chairs. “Just when I think you’re out of surprises, kitten, you pull this shit.”

Catra scowls at them from where she’s sitting, half-curled in Adora’s lap. Catra could’ve gotten a chair of her own, but she and Adora have a hard time with distance these days. After all the time they spent fighting each other, _hurting_ each other, sitting five feet apart is too much.

Adora gently runs her fingers through Catra’s messy hair, “What’s with the rescue mission to Beast Island? Shouldn’t we be focusing on Hordak?”

“I sent Entrapta to Beast Island,” Catra says, and it doesn’t matter how often she says it, how hard she tries to rationalize it, she’s filled with guilt every time. “She tried to tell Hordak the Portal was too dangerous, so I knocked her out while her back was turned and had her put on a transport. I told Hordak she betrayed the Horde, and he…” Catra feels her lungs constrict. She breathes in, deeply, “He believed me.”

“He believed you,” Adora echoes, something sharp and knowing in her eyes, the kind of look that tells Catra they’re going to have a conversation about this later. Adora opens her mouth, closes it, opens it again, “How long were you and Hordak working together, just the two of you?”

Catra hears what Adora isn’t asking.

_Why did Hordak believe you so easily?_

_What changed, while I wasn’t there?_

_What else did I miss_?

“A couple months,” Catra says, infusing as much honesty into her voice as she can. “He was more of a train wreck than usual after the Portal thing. I had to force him to eat, take breaks, keep him from falling apart at the seams and taking everyone in the Fright Zone with him.”

“She helped him in his lab,” Double Trouble contributes, a glint in their eyes that sets Catra on edge. “Kind of like a lab partner.”

Catra goes cold, all the way down to her bones.

“Lab partner?” Adora’s nose scrunches up in confusion. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Double Trouble—” Catra hisses, and falters at the last second. Anger and regret are warring within her, making a mess of her head. She has to focus hard to keep her breathing under control.

Double Trouble laughs breezily, “You’re right, Adora-ble. It wasn’t pretty. Who knew our kitten had it in her, imagine, sending your friend to die, and then stealing her lab partner? _Despicable_. It’d be horrifying, if it wasn’t so incredibly attractive. What can I say, I always have a thing for the maniacal ones.”

“ _Our_ kitten?” Adora narrows her eyes at DT. If Catra weren’t busy trying to stave off a panic attack, she’d kiss the frown away from Adora’s face, tell her she has nothing to be jealous about, at all. Except—

Catra can’t breathe.

_Imagine sending your friend to die, and then stealing her lab partner._

_Imagine sending your friend to die._

Entrapta’s not dead. She can’t be dead. Entrapta’s the smartest person Catra’s ever known. She’s a survivor, an Island’s not enough to kill her, Catra’s not—

 _You made your choices, now live with them_.

Catra squeezes Adora’s hand so tightly Adora winces. She steals herself, her fangs digging into her bottom lip, drawing blood.

“I want to lead a rescue mission to Beast Island.” Her voice cracks and breaks, but for the first time in a long time, Catra doesn’t care about looking strong. She blocks out all of the other princesses, ignores the way they’re staring, the way they’re crying and shouting at her and calling her things like _vile, evil, monster_.

Catra is all of those things, she’s everything they think she is and worse.

But she’s also trying to be better, for Adora and for herself.

She keeps her eyes on Glimmer, “I’m going to Beast Island. I’m not asking for permission, but she was your friend, so I thought maybe you’d want to save her, too.”

“She still _is_ my friend,” Glimmer says. Something strange flashes in her eyes, too quick for Catra to identify what it is. “I can’t come with you, even if I wanted to. With you gone, the Horde’s probably scrambling to find someone else to replace you, but Hordak’s not going to wait long to make his next move.”

Catra told them, that very first day, the first time she ever sat at this table, what Hordak’s big plan was. Catra’s given them everything, strategies and battle plans and artillery weaknesses and army numbers, and it still hasn’t been enough.

“I don’t need you to come,” Catra snaps, too viciously, too much like she would have _before_ , because Adora goes tense underneath her. Catra can’t find it in herself to dial it back, because she’s _fine_ with nothing she does being enough, she’s fine with knowing she matters as little here as she did in the Horde—it’s been the story of Catra’s whole life.

The first lesson Catra ever learned from growing up with Shadow Weaver was how to pick her battles.

This is a battle she’s not giving up. She has to be enough this time; _this_ has to be enough.

“I don’t need you,” Catra repeats, calmer, less sharp-edged. “I just need a ship.”

“Every ship we currently have is protecting Salineas,” Mermista pipes up, looking up from her nails to glare at Catra. “You know, because the Horde’s about to attack it. You remember that, right?”

Catra barely stops herself from lunging across the table and wringing Mermista’s neck. Adora’s free hand on her back, a comforting weight between her shoulder blades, keeps her in place.

“Lucky for us, we have an extra ship,” Adora says, her gaze going to Bow. “Mara’s ship could make it to Beast Island. I’ll go with Catra to rescue Entrapta, the rest of you stay here to protect Salineas in case Hordak decides to attack.”

“Adora—” Glimmer starts, faltering at the determined expression on Adora’s face. “Adora, we need you here.”

“Yeah, what if the Horde attacks, and we don’t have She-Ra?” Frosta demands. She’s shooting daggers at Catra with her eyes; it’s fucking ridiculous, she’s as threatening as a gremlin.

The ice gremlin continues talking, “What if this was her plan the whole time? To lure you away with a fake mission and get you alone, meanwhile the rest of us are stuck without She-Ra when Hordak’s attack comes?”

“That’s not my plan,” Catra growls. “Would I have waited this long if it was? I’m not trying to win anything; this isn’t about winning.”

“Isn’t everything about winning, with you?” Frosta retorts.

“Shut up, you’re like ten. I’m not arguing with a ten-year-old gremlin.” Catra makes a startled noise when Adora covers her mouth with her palm.

Frosta gives an outraged cry and stands up, all dramatically and shit, “One, how dare you! Two, I’m twelve!”

“This is so riveting,” Double Trouble interjects, “I wonder how it’s going to end. We should all take bets. Kitten, I’m sorry, but my money is on the gremlin.”

Catra gasps, “You—I’m your _employer_ , I’m literally the one _paying_ you.”

“I call it how I see it,” Double Trouble says primly.

“I am going to kick you out of Bright Moon,” Glimmer screeches, pinching the bridge of her nose. She gestures to Double Trouble, “You’re not even a part of the Princess Alliance.”

“Absolutely correct, queenie. I’m only here for the money,” Double Trouble agrees easily. “Catra is basically my dream employer; beautiful, broken, batshit crazy, too dramatic for her own good, and rich,” Double Trouble grins as they finish counting off their fingers. “Who knew the Horde paid so well? She’s basically my sugar daddy.”

The war room goes dead quiet.

“I have never been so offended in my life,” Catra shudders. “Never call me that again. Seriously, I’m begging you.”

“What do you mean, your _sugar daddy_? What’s a sugar daddy?” Adora demands, a mix of horrified and furious, “This seems like a very unprofessional relationship and I don’t like what I think you’re implying. Catra’s not _your_ anything.”

“We’re doomed,” Glimmer mutters, shaking her head dejectedly. “Go to Beast Island, take Mara’s ship and bring Entrapta back. And please, take Double Trouble with you, before I do something crazy like push them off Bright Moon’s highest tower.”

“I’ll come too,” Bow says. He’s been silent up until now, observing the interaction between Glimmer and Catra with increasing concern, “I want to be there when we rescue Entrapta, I want—I want to be there for her, like we haven’t been recently. And for you too,” He directs this at Adora. “If you’re going, then so am I.”

“Well, now I feel left out,” Glimmer complains. She glances between Adora and Bow worriedly, “Maybe I should come, the three of us are always better off sticking together.”

“You have a literal kingdom to protect,” Mermista says incredulously.

“The Horde could attack at any moment,” Frosta points out.

“You’d be leaving the Princess Alliance down to only five members,” Perfuma frowns.

Glimmer groans and starts massaging her temples, “You promise you guys will be okay? You’ll come back to me in one piece?”

“We promise,” Bow nods, patting Glimmer’s shoulder reassuringly. “When should we leave?”

“As soon as possible,” Adora says. She glances at Catra, her eyes full of fire. Catra feels her heart skip a beat.

“No princess left behind,” Adora declares, rising and pulling Catra along with her. Adora’s always pulling her places, and Catra—

It might’ve taken her a while, but she’s finally realized she would follow Adora anywhere.

* * *

It doesn’t make her weak, it doesn’t make her less.

Catra’s been strong this whole time, the only person who thought she was in Adora’s shadow was her, and Shadow Weaver, but Shadow Weaver doesn’t matter.

Shadow Weaver was banished from Bright Moon weeks ago, after Catra told Adora she couldn’t stay with her there, and Adora convinced Glimmer to get rid of her. It didn’t take much convincing, considering Shadow Weaver gives off creeper vibes like a banked fire.

Shadow Weaver always lies, she’s the one who taught Catra.

This cycle, it’s been going on since Catra was old enough to talk. Shadow Weaver built things into her, wounds that festered under Catra’s skin until she grew up enough to claw them out, but by that point it was already too late.

Catra was willing to burn down the world just to prove everyone wrong.

She realizes, now, how incredibly fucked up that is. She never should’ve had to prove anything at all. There was nothing to prove.

_Why did you treat me the way you did?_

There was never a good reason, that’s why Shadow Weaver never gave her one.

“Are you ready?” Adora asks, sitting in the pilot’s chair of Mara’s ship. Catra glances back at her from where she’s standing by the panel of windows.

Catra musters up a smile for her, “Ready to go to the island of our nightmares? You bet.”

The ship rises steadily into the air. Catra’s heart sinks.

* * *

She wonders if Entrapta will ever speak to her again.

She wonders, in the deepest corner of her mind, buried under layers of denial, if Entrapta is even alive to save.

She has to be, there’s no other option that Catra can live with.

* * *

When Catra closes her eyes, she hears Entrapta telling Adora, guileless and unassuming; _Catra is my friend._

Adora tells her this, off-handedly, like she means for it to help. She means for it to be encouraging, proof that Entrapta cared a lot about Catra and would forgive her, because friends forgive friends.

Catra gives a small laugh, kisses Adora for a long while, and swallows back the scream building in her throat.

She doesn’t have the heart to tell Adora that’s the problem. Being a friend _meant_ something to Entrapta, something special, and Catra took that and tore it to shreds.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Adora traces the freckles scattered across Catra’s cheeks. “I forgave you. It was easy to forgive you. Entrapta will too.”

 _No one else is like you,_ Catra wants to say. _I’m scared you’re going to wake up one morning and take it back_.

“I love you,” Adora says.

“I know, idiot,” Catra replies, on autopilot. The words come almost naturally to her now, “I love you too, now stop making out with me and go fly the ship.”

Somewhere nearby, Bow yells, “We’re nearing Beast Island.”

“The place where people are sent to die, and we’re walking in willingly,” Double Trouble sighs. “Sometimes, I swear, the paycheck isn’t worth it.”

* * *

Her first thought, the moment Catra sets foot on Beast Island, is that Hordak should have sent her here.

Entrapta saved her from it, and Catra sent her on a transport to her death.

Beast Island, in all the myths whispered throughout the barracks when Catra and Adora were cadets, is said to be a place where monsters live.

Catra thinks she would’ve fit right in, maybe if Hordak had pulled the trigger, she wouldn’t have set off the end of the world.

In the stories Shadow Weaver told her, she said Beast Island was the place people choked and suffocated and drowned in their guilt.

Catra stopped believing in ghost stories a long time ago, but if this really _is_ the place guilty people go to die, well—

Catra’s got so much guilt, it’ll eat her alive long before the monsters do.

* * *

They find Entrapta. They also find Glimmer’s _dad_ , of all people, in one of the unlikeliest places in all of Etheria.

Catra sees Entrapta, alive and whole and surviving, against all odds, for the first time since she took that stun baton to her while her back was turned.

Entrapta takes one look at Catra, her face immediately draining of color, and says, “I’d rather stay here.”

Catra feels something inside her wither and die, “Entrapta—”

“People—people usually let me down, anyway. I don’t understand them. Friends—Friends just, I don’t think they’re real. Friendship’s not meant to last, no matter what the data says.” Entrapta flips down the visor of her new mask and turns away, “At least my bots never let me down.”

“I’m sorry,” Catra flinches, her throat burning. “I’m sorry for sending you here when you were just trying to help—”

Entrapta cocks her head, “Are you?”

Catra goes completely still, “ _Yes_ , I promise. I’m so sorry, Entrapta. I…I don’t know what else to say.”

Entrapta lifts her mask, a wide-eyed look on her face. “You mean it?”

Catra shivers and wraps her arms around herself. She feels Adora’s eyes on her, is thankful that Adora’s letting her handle this alone, even though Catra can tell she really wants to intervene.

“I do,” Catra inhales shakily. She thinks it should bother her more, how much weakness she’s showing, but she’s been getting better about that too. Adora’s right there, and if this goes bad and Catra ruins this like she ruins everything, she knows Adora’s not going to leave her. She knows Adora will still be there, that honesty and vulnerability isn’t weak, in Adora’s eyes.

Catra isn’t weak in Adora’s eyes.

She wants so badly to see herself the way Adora sees her.

This, apologizing, taking responsibility, asking for forgiveness; this is step one.

“I mean it,” Catra pushes on, “I’m sorry for what I did, for how mean I was to you, most of the time. You were a good friend, a really good one. You did everything right, I’m the one who screwed up. Come back to the Rebellion, they never meant to leave you, they’ve spent all this time missing you. Come back, help them, and if you want, you won’t ever have to talk to me again.”

There’s a weighted silence. Neither Adora nor Bow make a sound.

Finally, Entrapta breaks it by saying, “I don’t want that.”

Catra feels a flare of panic, and it must show, because Entrapta hurries to clarify. “Not the coming back to Bright Moon part, that—seems the logical decision to make. I meant the not talking to you ever again part, I—I would like for us to stay on speaking terms.”

It’s like an anvil lifting off Catra’s chest, “Really?” She asks.

“Statistically, data reports show that holding grudges contributes nothing positive to one’s life,” Entrapta says, shrugging easily, like that’s all it takes. “Also, your sending me here has really helped me advance my work with First Ones tech! This whole Island is First Ones tech! Come look!”

One of Entrapta’s pigtails shoots out and wraps around Catra’s waist, tugging her towards where Entrapta is huddled around a screen, bar graphs and numbers flashing in bright red. Catra squints at the screen and understands absolutely nothing.

She sees the excitement on Entrapta’s face, hears the giddiness and pride in her voice. Catra tries to understand her, “Am I looking at schematics of Beast Island? Is this how much First Ones tech you’ve found?”

“Yes!” Entrapta exclaims, beaming at Catra. She goes off on a tangent Catra can’t process for the life of her, long-winded and technical and grating in a way that would've made Catra shove her away, just a few months ago. Things are different now, Catra wants to understand what Entrapta is saying, wants to share this with her because Entrapta’s eyes are lit up and she looks so animated and alive, and this is what friends are supposed to do.

“Only you could get sent to hell island and come out at the top of the food chain,” Catra says when Entrapta’s finished speaking, has taken a pause to breathe, before she launches into another rant about logistics and readings and data and all those things she loves.

“What, like it’s hard?” Entrapta asks, her eyebrows furrowed. Catra can’t help it, she laughs at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. The two of them, here, Entrapta’s hair wrapped like a vice around Catra’s waist, stating the obvious in a way that is so _Entrapta_ it’s endearing.

“Nothing’s hard for you. You’re smarter than all the monsters on this stupid island,” Catra says, measuring the small distance between them with her eyes. She weighs the risk, holds her breath and goes for it. Slowly, telegraphing her movements, she leans her head on Entrapta’s shoulder and snuggles closer.

Entrapta goes stiff, mouth parting slightly, a gasp of surprise escaping her. It takes her a while, a few seconds of processing time, before she cautiously brings her arms up to wrap loosely around Catra.

In Catra’s periphery, she sees Bow make a grab for Adora’s hand, mouthing something to her and pulling her away. Adora seems reluctant, but she goes easily. They disappear behind the thick bushes, somewhere beyond the treeline. They’re probably bringing Micah back to Mara’s ship.

“I’m really happy you’re alive,” Catra says, adding Entrapta to that list she’s keeping in her head, of all the people she can allow herself to be weak and vulnerable with. It’s a short list, but steadily it’s growing. “I know I was awful to you, and what I did was wrong, and you deserve so much better. You deserve a better friend, and the princesses, as much as I still can’t stand most of them, they care about you. They’re real friends.”

“I don’t know what constitutes a real friend,” Entrapta murmurs, muffled against the top of Catra’s head. “However, if I did have the data on-hand, and could study it and come up with an accurate analysis, I would say that offering comfort is a sign of real friendship.”

Catra’s breath catches, “You can’t mean that.”

“Why would I say something I don’t mean?” Entrapta inquires curiously, “Do people often say things they don’t mean?”

A bitter laugh bubbles out of Catra before she can bite it back, “That’s been the case my whole fucking life.”

“Oh,” Entrapta goes quiet. Her hair tightens around Catra’s waist, snug and protective. “Well, I suppose that’s another aspect of social interaction I don’t understand. I never say things I don’t mean.”

“So when you said you still wanted us to talk,” Catra swallows thickly. “You meant it?”

“Of course I did,” Entrapta pauses, giving Catra a considering look. “We’re talking now, aren’t we?”

Catra snorts, her eyes stinging, but she cries so often these days she’s become a pro at ignoring it. “Yeah, yeah we are.”

“And I’m…enjoying it. I enjoy talking to you,” Entrapta hesitates, unsure of herself for the first time since Catra arrived on Beast Island. “Do you, ah…enjoy it too?”

 _This_ , Catra thinks, her bottom lip trembling, _this is one of those moments that matter_. She’s done watching these moments pass, waving to them as they go by. _This is it; this is when she needs to start trying_.

No more ruining good things.

“Yeah,” Catra says, her voice thick with emotion. “I like talking to you too, Entrapta.”

Entrapta’s expression brightens, sunnier than anything on Beast Island, and Catra knows without having to think about it that this is one of the first things she’s done right in a long time.

“Come back to Bright Moon with me,” Catra says, as heartfelt as she can manage without sobbing uncontrollably, which she will be doing the minute she gets back to Mara’s ship and finds a dark corner to cry in. “None of us will last five minutes without you.”

Entrapta scrutinizes Catra’s expression, casts a look around at the dark forest around them, at the new robot she built, at the new equipment she has, all of the reasons she has to stay.

She looks back at Catra and smiles.

“Alright, I’ll come back with you,” Entrapta motions to her equipment. “But you have to help me carry my stuff.”

“It’s a deal,” Catra says, matching her smile. The noose around her neck, built from layers and layers of her guilt and regret and all of the things she wishes she never did and words she can’t take back, loosens.

“It would be a shame if you were to get eaten on your way back to the ship and I wasn’t there to save you again,” Entrapta says, “I don’t want you to be eaten.”

“I’m too pretty to be eaten,” Catra jokes, as Entrapta turns away and starts handing her equipment to carry.

“Agreed,” Entrapta nods, collecting her things. She stops, her arms full of technical wires and insulated cables, and says, quieter, “It would also be a shame to lose you after we just became friends again. I already have so few, I don’t want to lose any friends.”

“You won’t,” Catra says, and fuck Hordak and the First Ones and the whole planet, she means it. “I promise. Those mean something to me.”

“I know,” Entrapta replies. Catra can’t see her expression, but she has a feeling Entrapta is smiling. “It’s one of the only variables I’ve never had to collect data for. It’s a certainty.”

 _A certainty. The sky is blue, the sun rises every morning, and Catra doesn’t break her promises_.

As the two of them walk back to Mara’s ship together, side-by-side, lugging Entrapta’s too-heavy equipment behind them, Catra adds another certainty to her own list.

_The sky is blue, the sun rises every morning, Catra is in love with Adora, and she and Entrapta are friends. Real friends._

* * *

Adora lands Mara’s ship in Bright Moon. A half-second later, as the ship doors are sliding open and the ramp is lowering, Glimmer appears in a cloud of pink sparkles.

“You’re back!” She says, running toward Bow and Adora and pulling them both into a hug. Catra has to let go of Adora’s hand, at the risk of getting dragged into the hug too.

“Disgusting,” DT comments, “Affection.”

Entrapta, datapad in hand, starts furiously scrawling down notes and speaking into her makeshift voice recorder, “First log off Beast Island, location; back in Bright Moon. The shapeshifter—Double Trouble—appears to have an extreme dislike of…hugging. Possible aversion to skin contact? Further monitoring is required.”

DT glances at Entrapta, then at Catra, “Kitten, what am I being monitored for?”

“It’s her process,” Catra huffs a laugh, “It’s just how she figures things out. Let her do her thing.”

“As long as I don’t end up a lab experiment,” DT gives a half-shrug, grinning a little. “It’s actually kind of flattering.”

Once Glimmer has apparently gotten her fill of hugging Bow and Adora, she throws herself at Entrapta and starts crying into her hair. Entrapta is so stunned she drops her datapad and voice recorder.

Entrapta shoots a look at Adora and Bow, raising her arms tentatively to wrap around Glimmer’s back. Her pigtails droop a little, twining around Glimmer’s shoulders, like a cocoon.

“Am I…” Entrapta’s gaze travels to Catra, “Am I doing it right?”

Catra’s heart twists painfully, “Yeah,” She manages to say, “You’ve got it.”

“I’ve missed you so much,” Glimmer says, half-muffled, against the material of Entrapta’s shirt. “I’m sorry we didn’t try hard enough to bring you home, back here, where you _belong_. I’m sorry we made you think we’d ever leave you, that we didn’t give you a reason to want to come back.”

Entrapta’s voice is careful, measured, “It’s alright.” Her eyes bore into Catra’s, “Someone did give me a reason. An inarguable one.”

Catra bites back a strangled sound, forces a smile for Entrapta’s sake. She will never understand the way people like Entrapta, like _Adora_ , hand out forgiveness so easily. Catra doesn’t deserve it, she plans on earning every bit of it.

Glimmer pulls back a little from the hug, enough to meet Entrapta’s eyes and see her staring at Catra. Glimmer follows Entrapta’s gaze, expression brighter than Catra’s ever seen it, aimed at her.

“Thank you,” She tells Catra, with none of the disgust and contempt Catra is used to from her. She sounds grateful, earnest and honest in a way Catra doesn’t know what to do with.

Catra nods jerkily, feeling dizzy and shaky from all of the forgiveness and gratitude and honesty and trust, it feels overwhelming. She thinks she’s going to explode.

Adora still reads her as easily as the back of her hand, because Adora moves to Catra’s side a moment later, her voice soft and soothing. She draws Catra to her chest, blocks out the rest of the world, silences the white noise filling Catra’s head.

“We did good today,” Adora says, pressing a kiss to Catra’s temple. “You did good.”

Catra watches Glimmer catch sight of her father, standing near the bottom of the ship’s ramp and drinking in Bright Moon like it’s his first time seeing it. They see each other, and it’s like time slows to a stop.

Catra watches Micah lift Glimmer into his arms and spin her around, the both of them crying, ugly tears pouring down their cheeks.

The pain in her chest fades; the weight of her guilt lessens. She wishes someone had told her before, before she crossed as many lines as she did, how good it felt to fix your mistakes.

Catra shares a look with Adora, “We did good.” She winks, “But, next rescue mission, _I_ fly the ship.”

“You think you could’ve flown it better?” Adora arches an eyebrow. “I’m offended by your lack of faith in my piloting skills.”

DT snorts, “Honey, a _squirrel_ could’ve flown the ship better. They could’ve landed it better, too.”

“What was wrong with my landing?” Adora demands.

“Where do I start?” DT says dryly. Their eyes go wide suddenly, “Uh, kitten—”

“We have a problem!” Perfuma’s voice comes from behind them. Catra glances over her shoulder, still tucked into Adora’s side and not planning to move, unless Bright Moon’s on fire, or something.

Glimmer, her face buried in the crook of her dad’s neck, says, “Oh…dang, I totally forgot to tell you.”

“Tell us what?” Bow asks, looking worriedly between Perfuma and Glimmer. “Did something happen while we were on Beast Island?”

“Define _something_ ,” Glimmer mutters, squeezing her dad tighter. “Perfuma, would you mind filling everyone in while my dad and I catch up?” Glimmer and Micah disappear in a shimmering pink cloud.

Perfuma worries her bottom lip, Catra dislikes the way she’s looking at her.

“What?” Catra asks, snuggling closer to Adora out of habit. “Is Bright Moon on fire?”

“No,” Perfuma glances back at the castle. “Hopefully, but with Frosta alone with the prisoner, all bets are off, I’m afraid.”

“Prisoner?” Bow’s face scrunches up, “What prisoner?”

“Bright Moon has prison cells now?” Entrapta jots a note down on her datapad, “That’s new information.”

Perfuma squeals at the sight of her and rushes forward, pulling Entrapta into a tight embrace. Entrapta freezes for a split-second, the tension bleeding out of her a moment later. She smiles softly and pats Perfuma’s back a few times. Eventually, Perfuma gingerly lets her go, re-focusing on Adora.

“Technically, no, we still don’t have cells. We have _guest rooms_ ,” Adora shakes her head. “Also, not the point. We were only gone for two days; how did you guys manage to take someone captive? Did the Horde attack?”

“No,” Perfuma squirms in place, “She kind of just…showed up. _Poof_ ,” She gives an awkward laugh. “She’s in one of the guest rooms and Frosta’s guarding her, but we’re not really sure why she’s here.”

“A Horde solder _walked_ into Bright Moon,” Adora says, disbelievingly. “Are you kidding me.”

“You guys have got to get better security,” Catra scoffs, “Between me and whoever this prisoner is, we could’ve stolen Adora’s sword and all of your shit and blown the castle sky-high and none of you would’ve known.”

“Damn, I should’ve done that,” Double Trouble says forlornly, “What a wasted opportunity.”

“I’m sorry, we were a little busy. It was complete chaos!” Perfuma looks increasingly distressed, “Mermista got into a fight with Sea Hawk over video-call and Frosta kept sneaking ice cream from the kitchens and Spinerella and Netossa were on a date night and sent our calls to voicemail—”

Bow wraps an arm around her and pulls her into a side-hug, “It’s okay, Perfuma. We’re not blaming you; we understand, good security is hard to find.”

“Right?” Perfuma sniffs. “Anyway, it was loud and rowdy and Glimmer left me alone, and then in walks this Horde soldier, and she raises her hand, like she’s waiting for us to call on her. Mermista screamed, then I screamed, and then Frosta froze her in a block of ice. That’s it. That’s the story.”

Catra can’t believe this.

She’s been losing to the Princess Alliance, and they’re all _incompetent_.

The _shame_ , the _dishonour._ The only person who should be more embarrassed than her is Hordak. Hordak needs to find a hole to bury himself in.

“Do we know who she is?” Bow asks, “Did she tell you her name?”

Perfuma looks directly at Catra, nervousness in every line of her face, “She said her name is Scorpia.”

Catra goes absolutely still, her heart pounding like a jackhammer. She feels Entrapta’s eyes on her.

Bright Moon castle looms, big and bright and ominous, in the distance.

Catra intertwines her fingers with Adora’s, and takes off running.

* * *

Catra has to threaten to hide all of the ice cream in Bright Moon to get Frosta to let her in to see Scorpia. Adora comes with her, because Catra hasn’t let go of her hand and refuses to, for emotional support purposes, obviously.

Entrapta also accompanies them, excited to see Scorpia after so long. Perfuma decides to wait outside with Frosta, and Bow wants to come too, but Adora convinces him to go find Glimmer and her father instead.

“If you need me, just let me know,” Bow says, heading off down the hall, taking the right towards Glimmer’s room.

Catra is running on impulse and adrenaline, her brain’s been wired and her nerves shot since Perfuma said Scorpia’s name. _Why is Scorpia here, why is she not with Horde—_

_What if she defected?_

_When did Catra see her last?_

Catra’s heart constricts, guilt flooding her the way it did back on Beast Island. She can’t even remember the last thing she said to Scorpia.

_You’re not my best friend, we’re not friends._

Catra shores up whatever little energy she has left and pushes the door to Scorpia’s room open.

Scorpia’s head snaps up, she’s sitting on the floor in the middle of the room. Entrapta’s robot, the one Catra hated because it reminded her of the worst thing she’s ever done, is beside her.

“Scorpia,” Catra winces at how unstable she sounds. Adora squeezes her hand reassuringly, strong and comforting and _there_ , and Catra knows it’s okay for her to be weak, but this feels excessive. It feels debilitating.

Catra hates it, Scorpia’s never seen her as anything but strong. Scorpia saw her at her worst, a hair away from a breakdown in the Crimson Waste, and called her _beautiful_ and _intelligent_ and _amazing_.

Catra feels the pedestal about to come crumbling down, feels herself about to fall and get hurt, and she can’t stop it.

“Hi, Scorpia,” Catra swallows thickly. “It’s been a while.”

“Catra— _wildcat_ , I’m…I’m so happy to see you! Oh my gosh, I was so worried, you disappeared from the Fright Zone after that whole thing in Elberon and then you never reported back after the Pulse Bots went offline, and Hordak was going crazy without you around. I thought he’d sent you to Beast Island or something, I’ve been searching for you like crazy! Lonnie and Rogelio too! Kyle’s kind of useless, but he’s been doing his best to help! I can’t believe you’re here, of all places. Were you captured? I’m so sorry, if I’d known, I would’ve busted you out right away! I guess it’s kind of good luck that I came to the Princess Alliance for help, or—”

Double Trouble, who wasn’t supposed to come into the room with them and did anyway, pipes up, “Scorpia, darling, I love you, but if you talk any faster, my ears are going to fall off, and then I’d just look weird.”

“Oh, right, of course. Sorry, I’m a fast talker when I’m nervous, or excited, or whenever Catra’s around in general. Anyway—”

“Why did you come to Princess Alliance?” Adora interrupts, a befuddled look on her face. “Help for what? Not that we wouldn’t help you, we’ll do what we can, it’s just kind of weird.”

“More like very weird,” DT says. “Has the Horde really sunk that low? Catra’s barely been gone two months.”

“Ooh, boy, let me tell you,” Scorpia gives an awkward laugh, “It’s been a disaster with a capital D since Catra up and vanished. I’ve been a _trainwreck_ , Wildcat. I haven’t buffed my pincers in weeks. Lonnie was promoted to Force Captain because the chain of command is dropping like flies. Hordak’s been out in the streets screaming about how he’s lost another lab partner, whatever _that_ means. It was kind of creepy, how distraught he was, considering he tried to kill you a few times. Hordak’s a weird dude. Anyway, our forces aren’t doing too great, Octavia’s been spreading a rumor that you’re dead, and Lonnie’s the only competent strategist we have now.”

Catra’s head is spinning. The room is dead silent.

Double Trouble breaks it, “So what you’re saying is, the Fright Zone is going to Hell because Catra’s not there anymore? _Wow_. Kitten, I always knew you were the only thing keeping that military ship from sinking, but _wow_.”

“Not the time, Double Trouble,” Adora mutters. In her periphery, Catra can see the worried look Adora is sending her. She wishes she could pull a real vanishing act and disappear with Adora, somewhere far away and secluded where nothing exists outside the two of them, and Catra never has to think about the Fright Zone again.

“What are you doing here, Scorpia?” Catra asks, her heart heavy. She wants to believe Scorpia’s here because she defected, but like Catra, the Horde’s all Scorpia’s ever known. Unlike Catra, Scorpia doesn’t have someone she loves in the Rebellion to defect for, so her being here is a mystery, unless this is another one of those princess things.

“I’m here because I wanted to see if the princesses would be willing to help me save Entrapta from Beast Island,” Scorpia says, her expression morphing into one of hurt. Catra winces and draws into herself, hates that she’s the one who put that expression on Scorpia’s face.

“What are you doing here, wildcat?” Scorpia’s eyes are too trusting, too friendly, despite how hurt she looks, and Catra wants to curl into a ball and die for all the guilt that she’s feeling. “You never answered me.”

“Catra,” Adora says softly, kindly, “Do you want me to—”

“Oh, Scorpia, there’s no need to save me!” Entrapta comes barrelling forward from where she was standing by the door, hidden behind Double Trouble. “I’ve already been saved! I saved myself, and then Catra, Adora and Bow saved me. At least, they thought they did, but really, I saved them. Then they brought me back to Bright Moon! Beast Island was fascinating, let me show you all the data I collected! Oh, Emily! I missed you too!”

“Hello,” Double Trouble huffs, “I was on that rescue trip too, thank you for the acknowledgment. Scientists, the _audacity_.”

“Entrapta?” Scorpia demands incredulously. Her eyes are wide, her face pale, “How are you here? You—” Scorpia cuts a look at Catra, “Catra saved you from Beast Island?”

“Once again, my contributions go unrecognized,” DT says, crossing their arms. They gesture meaningfully at Adora, “Is this the first time someone hasn’t given you credit for a heroic deed? Get used to it, darling. This is the status quo now.”

“Why are you in here?” Adora looks genuinely puzzled, “Seriously. I know why I’m here, but why are you here?”

“Why is everyone in the Rebellion so rude?” Double Trouble pouts, “I’m starting to feel unwanted.”

“Starting?” Adora arches an eyebrow.

“Catra wants me,” DT says.

“She does _not_ ,” Adora retorts, her face scrunching up adorably. “She has me.”

Those words out of Adora’s mouth cut through the fog in Catra’s head, she feels herself smiling automatically, and she shifts closer to Adora, “Oh, Adora, I didn’t know you were jealous type.”

“I’m not,” Adora flushes, “I just want to make sure everyone knows we’re together and that I love you and that I would die for you. That’s it.”

“I would die for you too,” Catra replies, her heart swelling, she didn’t think it was possible to feel this happy, this at peace. All she’s ever known is anger, and she hasn’t felt real anger in weeks. Adora makes her feel like every problem she’s ever had is tiny and insignificant, easily solvable, as long as Adora’s there to solve it with her.

Double Trouble makes a disgusted noise. Emily gives a small, happy sounding chirp. Entrapta is talking to Scorpia about the giant robot she made out of First Ones tech on Beast Island.

Scorpia’s voice rings out, high-pitched and shrill, “ _What is that_?” She points at Catra and Adora, horrified, “What’s happening? What am I seeing? This _does not compute_.”

“It’s a public display of affection,” Entrapta says matter-of-factly. “Catra and Adora are prone to excessive amounts of PDA.”

“We are _not_ ,” Catra denies, like the liar she is. She literally feels like she’s dying if she doesn’t touch Adora for more than five seconds.

“We kind of are,” Adora tells her, blushing cutely. Catra would kiss her, right there, in front of Entrapta and Double Trouble and Emily the murder-bot, PDA be damned, but the look of heartbreak on Scorpia’s face stops her cold.

“You and Adora?” Scorpia asks, and she sounds so sad, like she already knows the answer. “The two of you are together now?”

“Did you not see the part where they declared their undying love and said they’d die for each other?” Double Trouble inquires quizzically.

Entrapta, for all the times she misses social cues and says the wrong thing, shoots a meaningful look at Catra and says, “I should probably take Emily to Bright Moon’s mechanics lab and give her a tune-up. There are some files and recording logs that I downloaded to her hard drive that I want to make sure aren’t damaged.”

Entrapta waves goodbye to Scorpia, she leaves the room and Emily trails after her. Double Trouble watches them both go, before settling their gaze back on Catra.

“I think I’m going to go to the spa,” Double Trouble shrugs easily. “Bright Moon’s baths and oil massages are impeccable. You should try it, kitten, your pretty face would look even prettier.” DT wiggles their fingers and skips toward the door, “Good to see you again, Scorpia.”

Catra knows what everyone’s doing and panic is starting to worm its way into her chest. “ _Adora_ ,” Catra sends her a pleading look, says her name in that way that’s special to them.

“ _Catra_ ,” Adora fires back, just as meaningfully. “I should go check on Glimmer and fill her in on how the mission to Beast Island went.”

 _Don’t leave_ , Catra wants to say, but she can’t, because in the Horde that counts as weakness, and Catra’s never been weak in front of Scorpia.

“I’ll see you later,” Adora ducks forward, pressing a lingering kiss to Catra’s forehead.

Scorpia makes an aborted noise. Adora pulls away. She sends Catra a thumbs-up as she nears the door, a half-smile on her face that is reassuring. All of Catra’s courage leaves her the moment Adora’s gone.

But Catra’s learned how to be brave on her own, she had to, during a point in her life when all she had was herself. No Adora, and Shadow Weaver waiting for her to screw up, and Hordak using her and then throwing her away when she stopped being useful.

She realizes, during that time when _Catra and Adora_ didn’t exist anymore, there was _Catra and Scorpia._

She has Adora back now, wouldn’t give her up for anything. She wonders what it says about her, how broken and awful she is, that while Scorpia was trying to keep Catra from slipping through the cracks, Catra was digging them both deeper.

She doesn’t know what to say, there’s _so much_ she should say. All of Scorpia’s unwavering loyalty, and Catra took it and twisted it and wrung it dry, and didn’t give any pieces of herself in return. Scorpia deserves a friendship that goes both ways.

Scorpia deserves an apology, and it’s long overdue.

“I’m sorry,” Catra says, and her voice cracks. She thinks it must be that, how wrecked she sounds, that makes Scorpia’s eyes go wide with shock. “I’m sorry, for how badly I treated you, all those times you were just trying to make me feel better. I was mean, and selfish.” Catra inhales shakily, “I was a bad friend.”

Scorpia’s bottom lip starts trembling, “No you weren’t,” She says. “You were just really hurt, and, and I _chose_ to be there for you. I knew what I was doing.”

“Scorpia,” Catra’s never felt more awful, more furious at herself. “I threatened to electrocute you. Friends don’t do that.”

Scorpia flinches, “You were hurt over Shadow Weaver, and—and _Adora_ , you were always hurt about _Adora_.”

Catra doesn’t miss the way Scorpia says Adora’s name. It leaves a bad taste in her mouth, makes her hackles rise, “This isn’t about Adora.”

“Everything’s always about Adora with you,” Scorpia replies, an edge of anger to her voice now. Catra has never seen Scorpia angry, never at her, no matter what shit Catra pulled.

It’s like popping the lid on a can of worms that’s been festering too long, because suddenly, Scorpia’s on a roll, “You were upset about her leaving you, and I told you I’d always be there for you. You were mad about her replacing you, and I said you were irreplaceable to me. I tried so hard all the time to make you feel better, wildcat, and then you—you just left. You left, and Entrapta was gone, and the Horde’s upside-down and I was so out of my depth that I came to Bright Moon for help. And here you are, with Adora.”

It’s true, all of it, there’s nothing Catra can say. She doesn’t know where to start, Scorpia’s just laid out all of the ways Catra’s been horrible to her, and Catra doesn’t have a clue how to fix any of it.

Adora’s always been the fixer. Catra’s just good at ruining things.

She’s never tried to fix things, it’s easier to say something’s a lost cause then to allow herself to hope. Hope is for idiots, and Catra’s never been able to afford it.

But Catra hurt Adora more than anyone, and Adora forgave her. Entrapta forgave her, because Catra _tried_ , and Scorpia’s worth trying for, too.

“You—” Scorpia trails off, her frustration fizzling out, her chest heaving. “You were a bad friend.” She says it like she’s finally seeing something that’s been in front of her face for a year.

“I was,” Catra says. Scorpia has every right to be angry at her, to hate her. Catra really doesn’t want her to, though, but this isn’t about Catra. It’s about Scorpia. “I know it’s late, but I really am sorry.”

Scorpia sniffs and turns her head away, her eyes shining over, “Late is better than never.” She clears her throat, “You seem kind of different.”

Catra wraps her arms around herself, “I’m trying.”

“For Adora?” Scorpia asks, looking like she regrets it a minute later. She doesn’t retract the question, though.

“For Adora,” Catra nods, realizing distantly that this is the most honest she’s ever let herself be with Scorpia. “And for myself. I wasn’t—I wasn’t okay, before, Scorpia. You saw that.”

“Of course I saw it,” Scorpia says, matter-of-factly. “I wanted nothing more than to help you, it really hurt, when I realized I couldn’t.”

“There was nothing you could’ve done. I was a mess,” Catra feels the truth of it strangling her. A laugh tears its way out of her throat, half-hysterical. “I tried to end the world, Scorpia. You can’t fix that with a hug.”

“But I tried,” Scorpia shakes her head, painfully earnest. “I really tried, and it wasn’t enough.”

Catra’s lungs constrict, it becomes hard to breathe as she’s reminded of every time someone’s said that to her. Shadow Weaver, every day of her life. Hordak, all that time they were working together. All of the cadets who bullied her, who never expected her to go far at all.

The weight of _not being enough_ is what drove Catra to pull that lever, it’s the reason behind every horrible thing she’s ever done.

Scorpia never made her feel that way. Catra can see now that the entire duration of their friendship, she was waiting for Scorpia to be like everyone else. Another person in a long line that Catra will never be enough for, no matter how hard she tries.

Catra crosses the distance between them in measured steps. She imagines how different she must look; her headpiece gone, Horde insignia nowhere in sight. Last she looked in a mirror, everything about her looked softer, less sharp, less vicious and dangerous. Her hair is softer, her complexion healthier, the rings under her eyes less pronounced.

She still wears the dark burgundy of her old uniform, because she looks good in it, but the material is smooth leather, comfortable where her old uniform was constricting. Catra imagines she doesn’t look like Scorpia remembers her at all.

Catra kneels on the floor in front of Scorpia, her pincers are tied together behind her back with thick vines, a pink flower sprouted at the end—Perfuma’s trademark, because she’s a softie.

Even after everything, all the venom and the hurt, Scorpia still watches Catra with the kind of devotion and adoration reserved for someone far better than Catra could ever be.

Catra catches Scorpia’s gaze, “You’re more than enough,” She says, “You always have been. It was me; I wasn’t enough. You gave me everything, and I couldn’t give any of it back.”

“And now?” Scorpia asks, soft and wounded, like everything hinges on Catra’s answer. She looks like she’s on the verge of crying, and making Scorpia cry is something Catra will _never_ allow herself to do.

“Now,” Catra reaches out, tentatively, and slices through the vines pinning Scorpia’s pincers. “I’m trying to be someone different. Someone better.”

“I kind of like it, this, _you_. You’re smiling, wildcat. I didn’t think I’d ever get to see the real thing.”

Catra feels happiness rise in her chest, spreading outward, until she’s warm all over. Adora would call it hope. “Does that mean you’ll stay?”

“Stay? Like,” Scorpia drops her voice, almost to a whisper, as though she and Catra are exchanging secrets. “Join the Princess Alliance?”

“You’re a princess,” Catra says, simply, because Scorpia is so much more than the Horde ever let her be. “You deserve to be on it. They let me on it, and really, that shows you how much they’re desperately in need of members.”

“They let you in?” Scorpia looks incredulous, “You’ve only been with the Rebellion for a few months, you used to be Hordak’s second-in-command, and they let _you_ be a member of the Princess Alliance?”

Catra smirks, wicked and predatory, the way she used to before. The way that would make Scorpia swoon and go starry-eyed and call her _beautiful genius_.

“I’m the best strategist they have and they know it,” She laughs, with the kind of confidence that doesn’t come naturally to her, but she and Adora are working on it. “Clearly they need all the help they can get.”

“So, you were running the Horde, and now you’re basically running the Rebellion.” Scorpia sums up, mystified. There’s a reverent look on her face, like she’s about to start reciting poetry in Catra’s name or serenading her, right here on the guest room floor.

“What, like it’s hard?” Catra grins, rising to her feet and extending a hand to help Scorpia up. She hears Frosta’s voice through the door, telling her she’s been in here too long, and that she better not be dead or something equally ridiculous.

“That would be the Alliance’s resident ice gremlin,” Catra mutters. She cuts a look at Scorpia, hoping her sincerity shows on her face, “She takes some getting used to, but she’s not terrible, none of them are, really. They’ll probably warm up to you way faster than they warmed up to me. If you decide you want to stay.”

Catra shifts her weight from foot to foot, forces herself not to let her nervousness show. “Will you stay?”

Scorpia doesn’t answer for a while. She scans Catra’s face, searching and contemplative. She must see something worth staying for, because a wide smile breaks out across her face, slowly, in increments.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.” Scorpia raises one of her pincers to Catra’s cheek, delicately tracing the line of Catra’s jaw. “Entrapta’s here, and you’re here, and my loyalty was never really to the Horde, anyway.”

Catra feels a surge of relief, lets it shine through her eyes, lets Scorpia see how much this means to her. It doesn’t make her weak. It doesn’t make her less.

There’s so much she wants to say, should say.

All she can manage is, “Thanks, Scorpia.”

Scorpia pulls her into one of her crushing hugs, tight and uncomfortable and bruising, and Catra can’t breathe but her heart feels lighter, less heavy, less guilt-ridden.

“There’s no need to thank me, wildcat,” Scorpia’s smile reaches her eyes. “You’re worth staying for.”

* * *

It took nearly a week of Adora needling Glimmer to get her to agree to letting Catra join the Alliance.

Scorpia manages it in two days.

She and Entrapta share a chair at the war room table because the Rebellion is facing a chair shortage, apparently. Scorpia takes one look at Catra sprawled in Adora’s lap and asks Entrapta if she wants to give it a try. Catra thinks Entrapta’s hair could just hold her up, but Entrapta goes along with it easily, so Catra keeps quiet.

Double Trouble still complains about feeling excluded. Scorpia has extended the Superpal Trio to include them because they wouldn’t shut up about it for two days straight, thus the Superpal Quartet is born.

Glimmer catches Catra in the kitchen raiding the fridge, on the third day after Entrapta’s return to the Alliance and Scorpia joining up. She catches Catra by the elbow, her grip gentle, fingers brushing the skin of Catra’s arm like she’s still getting used to it, touching Catra without trying to hurt her.

Glimmer’s touch lingers, too long, and the kitchen is unsettlingly quiet. Catra glances at doorway, half-expecting to see Adora, but Adora’s back in their room waiting for her.

“What’s up, Sparkles?” Catra asks, fighting the urge to pull her elbow away. When Glimmer remains silent, Catra tacks on, half-jokingly, “Cat got your tongue?”

That seems to strike a nerve, “No,” Glimmer says, a little too forcefully. “No, I just wanted to say—to thank you, for uh, bringing my dad back. For insisting on the rescue trip to Beast Island, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t…have him, here with me, to help me out. I realized I never told you that.”

Catra feels her eyes widen, too taken aback to cover up her surprise quickly enough. “You’re thanking me,” She says incredulously, and maybe something’s leaking into her voice, something she’s never let slip with Glimmer, because Glimmer is looking at Catra like she’s never seen her before.

“I’m thanking you for saving my dad,” Glimmer says, firm and assertive, despite the odd way she’s still regarding Catra. “You found him and brought him back. Whether or not I trust you yet, which I’m _still_ on the fence about, you’re the reason I have a member of my family back.”

Over the course of the past few months, ever since she crawled through Adora’s window and decided there’s nowhere else she’s meant to be, Catra has made peace with the fact that she’s going to spend the rest of her life trying to earn forgiveness she doesn’t deserve.

Catra knows she’s always going to be apologizing for the things she did, to Scorpia, Entrapta, Adora. Catra watches the early-morning sunlight turn Adora gold and whispers the words _I’m sorry_ into her skin before she wakes up.

Catra never, not once, thought she could earn Glimmer’s forgiveness. Some things are too awful to ever truly forgive or forget. A small part of Catra, the most insecure and bitter and hateful part of her, still hasn’t forgiven Adora for leaving her. She doesn’t think it’ll ever stop hurting, but it hurts less. Catra can move past it, finally.

She killed Glimmer’s mom. Indirectly, without knowing it would happen, but there’s no taking it back. There’s no coming back from that.

Catra hasn’t bothered trying to earn Glimmer’s forgiveness, Glimmer shouldn’t be forgiving her, ever.

It’s maddening, Catra can’t stand it. Her heart starts racing, her claws extend involuntarily, flight or fight response kicking in. Catra hates herself for it, can’t help it. She always chooses fight.

She bares her teeth, a twisted parody of a smile. She reminds Glimmer, as meanly as she can, “I’m the reason your mom’s gone, why your family won’t ever be together again. I’m—” She falters, her mask slipping, her voice cracking, “I’m the reason you’ve been alone.”

Glimmer looks at Catra like she’s never understood her more, “You’re also the reason I’m not alone now. I haven’t forgiven you; I don’t know if I ever could,” Glimmer breathes in, shakily, “But I’d like to try. Adora loves you, more than anything. Scorpia’s half in love with you too, and Entrapta can’t stop talking about you, and Double Trouble says they’d bang you through the center of the planet if you’d let them. Which is—kind of disturbing, I’m not gonna lie.”

Despite everything, all the ugliness between her and Glimmer, Catra laughs. “Double Trouble _wishes_. Did they actually go to you of all people to talk about it?”

“Yes,” Glimmer says disbelievingly, “I have no clue why, but they ambushed me in my room and refused to leave until I listened to them talk about you for almost _two hours_. Catra, stop laughing. Catra, they think I’m their therapist—it’s not funny.”

“That’s where you’re wrong Sparkles, it’s hilarious.” Catra grins, noting the way Glimmer is still holding onto her elbow, the exasperated smile on her face, how she looks annoyed and fond and her eyes are livelier than Catra’s seen them in all the time she’s been at Bright Moon.

It’s not friendship, not really, but it feels a lot like something different, something better, and Catra doesn’t want to ruin the beginnings of a new good thing. She should quit while she’s ahead, leave the conversation on a high note, maybe invite Glimmer to join her and Adora back in their room because everything’s better when Adora’s there.

The thing is, Catra has never, not once, quit while she’s ahead. Catra doesn’t know when to stop pushing her luck.

She watches Glimmer’s fingers curl tighter around her elbow, surreptitiously, like Glimmer doesn’t realize she’s doing it. Catra pushes her luck.

“Do I want to know how you and Double Trouble filled two hours?” She asks teasingly, “I can’t be that interesting.”

Glimmer huffs a laugh, but its half-hearted, and Catra barely conceals a frown. She doesn’t look as sparkly, as shiny as Catra remembers her, doesn’t glow as bright as she did in Catra’s nightmares.

“You think listening to Double Trouble rant about you for two hours was the worst I’ve had to deal with? I had to listen to Adora talk about you for a whole year, and believe me, it was much worse,” Glimmer gives a half-shrug. “I tried setting her up with a few people, thought it might help her move on, but she didn’t want to move on from you. I never understood why, you—I hated you for a really long time. Now,” Glimmer’s fingers bite into Catra’s skin, uncomfortably, but not painfully. Her eyes, dark violet, stare into Catra’s like she’s trying to see into her soul.

“Now,” Glimmer says finally. “I think I see what she saw in you, why it was impossible for her to move on.”

Catra doesn’t know what to say; is at a loss. She never expected Glimmer to see anything worthwhile in her.

She registers her mouth moving, hears her own words too late, “What do you see?”

“Someone,” Glimmer draws in a breath, and lets it out slowly. “Someone I could see being important to me, someday. If I ever decide to trust you.”

Catra can feel herself overthinking, her brain speeding up, she thinks this is the moment where she usually ruins things, runs her mouth and kills any chance of happiness she could have. Not this time.

This time, Catra goes with option B, the alternate route. She decides even though it might hurt her one day, leave her open to weakness and vulnerability and all those things she could never afford, she’s going to try. She’s got to keep trying, for others, but mostly for herself.

She looks Gimmer head-on, “I’ll prove it to you every day if I have to.”

“That I can trust you?” Glimmer inquires.

“That you can trust me, that I’m worth keeping around. That, maybe, we could be important to each other.” Catra’s heart quickens, like it’s about to beat out of her chest. She adds, to lighten the mood, to calm herself down, “Make no mistake though, this is not because I like you.”

It works, succeeds in making Glimmer laugh, in putting that too-bright smile back on her face. “That line didn’t work on Adora, it’s not going to work on me.”

“I had to try,” Catra says, her nerves settling at Adora’s name. “I’ll keep trying.”

“I know you will,” Glimmer says, noticing for the first time the half-melted carton of ice cream and two spoons Catra is carrying. She takes it out of Catra’s hands, returns to the fridge and brings her a different carton, cotton candy and cookie dough.

“I’ll see you later,” Glimmer’s hands hover just an inch away from brushing Catra’s arms, fluttering uselessly, like she wants to reach out and touch her again. Ultimately, she doesn’t, choosing to fiddle with the end of her cape instead.

“Better not to keep Adora waiting,” Glimmer’s smile dims a little. “You’ve kept her waiting long enough.”

Catra wonders if she means now, or if she means everything before, decides it doesn’t matter which, because she’s right. Catra doesn’t want to keep Adora waiting anymore.

“Catch you later, Sparkles,” Catra says, turning on her heel and heading for the corridor. She’s hyper-aware of Glimmer watching her go, knows Glimmer doesn’t have to wait, could teleport to her room or anywhere else if she wanted.

Glimmer’s voice rings out, “My dad asked what happened to my mom.”

Catra stops, doesn’t turn around. “Should I be worried?”

“No,” Glimmer replies, calmly, as though they’re talking about the weather. “I told him she sacrificed herself closing Hordak’s portal and saving all of us. That she went out a hero.”

Catra’s eyes burn, she ignores it. “She was a hero,” She says tightly. “Adora talks about her a lot, says you’re just like her, and those hero genes must come from somewhere.”

Glimmer inhales sharply, she sounds thankful, when she speaks next. “I get them from my dad too. You should come have dinner with us, Adora and Bow come too, sometimes. I wouldn’t mind.”

“Wouldn’t your dad mind?” Catra protests, completely caught off guard. Glimmer must have lost her mind somewhere along the way, if she thinks her father will want to share a meal with the person responsible for his wife being gone.

“You saved him from Beast Island,” Glimmer says, “He’s actually been asking about you, says he never got to thank you for it.”

“What exactly did you tell him about the Portal?” Catra demands, and she despises having to bring it up, but she can’t wrap her head around this. The casual way Glimmer is talking about inviting her to family dinner, when Catra is the reason her family isn’t complete.

No one is that forgiving. Catra doesn’t trust it.

“The truth,” Glimmer’s words have an edge of steel to them now, “Hordak opened the Portal. Reality was collapsing, we were all going to die, my mom stopped it and she’ll forever be remembered for that.”

All coherent thought leaves Catra at once, words fail her, her heart feels like it’s flatlining.

“You told him Hordak opened it?” Catra forces herself to look over her shoulder at Glimmer, “You said Hordak pulled the lever?”

“Yeah,” Glimmer raises her chin defiantly, “The only people who were there are me, you, Bow, Adora, Hordak and Shadow Weaver. Shadow Weaver’s long gone, and as long as I have anything to say about it, Hordak’s not coming within three feet of my dad.”

Catra can’t believe what she’s hearing. Glimmer lied for her.

“Why would you say that?” Catra asks, hating how it comes out as a whisper, quiet and broken.

“Adora loves you,” Glimmer replies, as though there’s nothing more to it, as though that’s enough. Maybe for Glimmer it is, “Bow’s making you a Best Friend Squad figurine. My aunt Casta started knitting you a sweater after you brought my dad back, to match with Adora’s. Mermista thinks you’re cool and she’s thankful that you warned her about the attack on Salineas. Perfuma sees the best in everyone. Frosta said that you’re not _totally horrible_ , which is high praise from her. You’re _trying_ , is what I’m saying. You’re really trying, Catra, and everyone can see it, and I don’t want to ruin that. And maybe I’m tired of being mad, too.”

Glimmer teleports across the kitchen, reappearing in front of Catra, pulling her into a hug that is only half-uncomfortable. It takes Catra two whole minutes of standing there, frozen, before she works up the courage to wrap her arms around Glimmer.

When she returns to her and Adora’s room, an ice cream carton shared between them, Adora mentions she’s eating dinner with Glimmer and Micah that night.

Catra curls into her lap, smiles at the feeling of Adora’s fingers in her hair, and says she’ll come too.

* * *

At the next Alliance meeting, Scorpia announces that there’s a mutiny brewing in the Horde.

“Guess who’s leading it?” Scorpia says excitedly.

“Kyle,” Catra deadpans.

“Kind of?” Scorpia shakes her head, “Lonnie.”

“ _Her_ ,” Catra mutters, more for show than anything else. She never really hated Lonnie as much as she pretended she did, sure, Lonnie was a jerk, but Lonnie was a _competent_ jerk.

“I promised them once I got the Princesses’ help freeing Entrapta that I’d go back to the Fright Zone and help them evacuate any cadets that want to defect,” Scorpia continues, her gaze bouncing between Catra and Glimmer. “My plan was to get them to the Crimson Waste, where they could lie low until the war with the Horde was over.”

She keeps looking to Catra, as if for approval. Catra nods, glancing at Glimmer, “I think we can do one better than the Crimson Waste.”

Glimmer meets Catra’s eyes, her expression one of determination. “You bet we can. If you can get the cadets who want to defect out of the Fright Zone, they’ll be welcome at Bright Moon, if they choose to come here.”

Scorpia gives a little gasp, a look of awe on her face, “You mean it?”

“We do,” Adora says, shooting a brilliant smile at Scorpia, the kind that could inspire a planet to rise up and fight for her, if she only said the word. Scorpia blushes, because Adora just has that effect, is just that amazing.

“The cadets who want to fight for the Rebellion, or just want a place where they’ll be safe can stay at Bright Moon as long as they need, that’s a promise.” Adora cuts a look at Catra, “And Princesses’ keep their promises.”

Catra wonders if it’s possible to love someone this much. She didn’t think she was capable of it.

“Wildcat, you in?” Scorpia asks.

“I’m in,” Entrapta pipes up, “Returning to the Fright Zone would be advantageous for my data collection, there’s technology I left there where I stored additional recordings and data analysis results. Recovering them would be extremely valuable.”

“Raise hell for the Horde?” Catra smirks, feeling at home in Adora’s arms, the Fright Zone a distant memory that doesn’t haunt her as much as it used to. “You know I’m in.”

“If you’re in, I’m in,” Adora says, “The cadets in the Fright Zone used to be my friends too. Besides,” Adora cocks an eyebrow at Catra, “I can’t let you make all the saves.”

“Oh yeah,” Catra purrs, nuzzling closer to Adora, “You feeling threatened, princess?”

“You’re in _public_ ,” Double Trouble shouts, “ _In public_ , disgusting, dishonour on you. Dishonour on your sword and your horse.”

“Double Trouble will also be joining you on this mission,” Glimmer interjects quickly, looking disgruntled, “Because I literally don’t know what else to do with them and I think I’m going crazy.”

“I’ll go too,” Bow says patting Glimmer’s arm soothingly, “I’ll make sure Adora stays out of trouble.”

“When do I ever get into trouble?” Adora demands, sounding offended.

“Whenever you’re with Catra,” Bow supplies, and Catra would argue with him, except every single member of the Princess Alliance is nodding their head and agreeing, and she knows a losing battle when she sees one. Also, Bow’s right.

“That’s—” Adora pouts. “That’s valid.”

“Should Frosta and I go too?” Perfuma inquires. Mermista, Sea Hawk, Spinerella and Netossa are in Salineas, guarding it in case Hordak gets it in his head that he wants to launch his attack now. Not that Catra thinks he will, considering how badly the Horde is doing in terms of numbers, but Hordak doesn’t have a strategic bone in his body.

“I think you two can stay here,” Glimmer replies, “We should probably keep the infiltration group small. My dad and I will prepare all of the guest rooms in the castle to house the cadets who decide they want to stay, depending on how many there are, we’ll probably have to divide rooms.”

“It shouldn’t be a problem,” Scorpia says, “Your guest rooms are _huge_ , like, unfairly huge. I didn’t know they made rooms that big.”

“It’s a princess thing,” Catra says. Adora rolls her eyes and jabs her playfully. Catra shoots her an innocent smile.

“When will be leaving?” Entrapta inquires, scribbling away on a datapad. “I need to know the timeframe so that I can make a list of all the things I need to bring and which tools will be appropriate.”

“Tools for what?” Bow asks.

“To blow up the Fright Zone,” Entrapta says, casually, as though they’ve been over this a dozen times, and she didn’t just mention it _now_. At everyone’s scandalised looks, Entrapta re-evaluates. “Did I not show you my slideshow presentation?”

“No,” Glimmer gapes. “You did not.”

“Oh, how forgetful of me. That’s such a shame, I had bar graphs and figures and charts that I worked so hard on—”

“Entrapta,” Scorpia cuts in tightly, “Can we, uh, get back to the whole blowing up the Fright Zone thing, please?”

“Right,” Entrapta gets back on track. “The conclusion I drew from your plan is that once we collect all the tech I left in the Fright Zone and the cadets evacuate, there’s no need to leave the Fright Zone standing. I theorized that it would be better to demolish it. You know, boom.”

“Boom,” Scorpia echoes, wide eyes going to Catra. “She makes sense, wildcat. In a twisted, _kaboom_ kind of way.”

“We’re not blowing up the Fright Zone,” Catra snaps, and she can’t pinpoint the moment when it happened, but her claws have come out. Her teeth are grating, her heartbeat speeding up. She doesn’t want to think about why the thought of the Fright Zone being gone hurts her so much.

Adora, as always, picks up on it. Her arms tighten, ever so slightly, around Catra.

“Hey, Catra,” She frowns, forcing Catra to look away from Scorpia and Entrapta, at her. “It’s okay. No one’s blowing up the Fright Zone if you don’t want it to happen.”

“It would be super helpful, though,” Double Trouble comments. “You know, because there’s a _war_ and everything going on.”

Double Trouble squawks indignantly as Glimmer flashes over to them and teleports them both away. She reappears a moment later, looking extremely satisfied with herself.

“Please tell me you didn’t leave them on the roof,” Bow says.

“I didn’t leave them on the roof,” Glimmer replies smugly. “I left them at Madam Razz’s hut. I told her I brought her a volunteer to help her pick berries, so we’ve got peace and quiet for at least an hour. You’re welcome. You may proceed,” She nods meaningfully at Adora.

Adora shoots Glimmer a look that is both disapproving and grateful, eventually, gratefulness wins out, and she sighs and turns back to Catra.

“Listen, Catra, I get it. The Fright Zone was my home too,” Adora says, and sometimes it’s hard to remember that. They both had the same, horrible childhood, despite the fact that their trauma was different.

Catra spent so long hating Adora for having it easier than her, but the awful truth of it is that neither of them had it easy. Shadow Weaver ruined them both, just in different ways.

Catra doesn’t know why she’s still fighting to save a place that’s only ever given her nightmares. It reminds her of the worst parts of her, every single moment she ever felt small and worthless and alone, she remembers those walls, the noise, the Horde insignia on every surface.

Catra didn’t like herself then, she didn’t like who she was, in that place. Catra made the worst mistakes of her life in the Fright Zone, it’s where she almost set off the end of the world.

She was ready to let it all burn, then, because she wasn’t able to let go. She thinks she’s ready to let go now.

“The decision is ours, and we don’t have to make it now,” Adora’s voice is soft, understanding, compassionate. The way she sounds, it’s like she’d wait forever if Catra decided that’s what she wanted.

Catra leans her head against Adora’s, stares into those blue eyes she adores so much, and decides she’s done letting the past weigh her down.

“We’re not blowing up the Fright Zone,” Catra repeats. She knows everyone can hear her, but her words are for Adora, only Adora. “We’re going to burn it to the ground.”

“Teenagers,” Frosta mutters.

“This is so romantic,” She hears Bow whisper.

“They’re planning arson,” Perfuma points out.

“But they’re planning it together,” Bow sniffs, “Glimmer, pass me a tissue.”

“I should’ve stayed in bed,” Glimmer huffs. “It’s not like we ever get anything done in these war meetings anymore.”

“You want to burn it down?” Adora searches Catra’s eyes, must find what she’s looking for, because she nods one, decisively. “Then we’ll burn it down. Together.”

“You’re so _dramatic_ , Adora,” Catra says, smirking and tugging her closer, even though they can’t get much closer. “Is that another princess thing?”

“No,” Adora’s smile lights up her face, lights up Catra’s heart. “It’s a me thing, and you love it. You love me.”

“I might _like_ you,” Catra winks flirtatiously, “Just a little, don’t go nuts about it.”

“There goes my plan to scream it from every tower in Bright Moon,” Adora laughs, and reality disappears, and nothing exists out the two of them, and it’s’ perfect.

“I like you too,” Adora presses a feather-light kiss to the corner of Catra’s mouth, “I always have, from the moment we met.”

They started everything together, they’ll finish it together.

“Burn down our childhood home with me,” Catra whispers, her breath ghosting Adora’s cheek.

“I’d be honoured,” Adora replies, and it’s dysfunctional and crazy and completely insane, but it’s them. It’s always been them.

* * *

They leave for the Fright Zone that evening, at nightfall.

Catra, Adora and Scorpia hit the cadet barracks, they run into Lonnie and Rogelio outside, plan out the mass evacuation together, just like they used to when they were squad mates. Lonnie isn’t as much of a jerk as Catra remembers, or maybe Catra’s just going soft.

Adora’s turning her soft. Catra’s never been happier to let it happen.

Bow goes with Entrapta to get the tech in her old lab, Hordak re-purposed most of it, but there’s still some she stored away that was left untouched.

Adora causes a distraction by turning into She-Ra and destroying a tank. Catra blows up the barracks, all of the cadets who want to defect evacuate with Scorpia, who leads them to Mara’s ship, hidden at the edge of the Fright Zone. Bow and Entrapta radio in, reporting that they’ve got all of Entrapta’s stuff and are making their way back to the ship.

“See you later,” Scorpia calls to Catra, as they go their separate ways. “Stay safe.”

“You too,” Catra says. She and Scorpia both know why she’s not following, why she’s heading to the boiler room instead of making a break for it with everyone else. She and Adora told Lonnie and Kyle and Rogelio too, because the Fright Zone wasn’t only their home.

The only thing Lonnie said was, “Strike a match for me, this place should’ve burned down a long time ago.”

There’s a tank of kerosene in the boiler room. Catra douses every inch of the Fright Zone, only stopping once, outside the door of her old room.

She thinks about the drawings of her and Adora, scratched and ruined on the wall of their old bunk, and she keeps going.

* * *

Catra douses the Fright Zone in kerosene. Adora strikes the match.

* * *

The smoke billows past the treeline, the flames rage wild and uncontrolled and unforgiving.

Catra watches the place she grew up burn, and she doesn’t regret it.

At some point, Adora reaches for Catra’s hand.

She doesn’t let go.


End file.
